Written Ritual
by Lillamagal
Summary: MadaPein: Pein will have to keep in Madara's good books if he wants to remain the 'false' leader of Akatsuki. But proving himself to this perverted ninja isn't exactly a walk in the park...


**A/N: WARNING! BOYXBOY! This was written for a close friend who adores this crack pairing.**

MadaPein: Written Ritual

"What a load of guff! Pein, if you call 'this' sexy, my name must be Earnest Von Shlapenmachen!" Madara let out an impatiently brisk sigh, rapping his knuckles along the verge of a solid oak table. The bones in his hands constantly rose and fell under his coarse flesh, as if exhilarated to break free of their tarnished skin prison.

Pein had been _performing_ for ten minutes now and already Madara's sparkling ruby optics had started to glaze over, wandering around the murky gloom of the basement and situating upon random objects: from empty glass jars laden with dust and ancient cobwebs -whose spider hosts had probably died out years ago - to old records that Pein couldn't recognise the names of for love-no-money.

"Well I try my best _you inconsiderate bastard."_ Pein muttered under his breath through gritted teeth.

"What was that?" Madara raised his chin, titled his head and gave Pein such a vicious glare you'd have thought it was a look that belonged to a rabid dog.

"Err…I was just…err, talking about this 'ere dust. Yeah, the inconsiderate bastard who leaves this place get into such a condition. It's shameful! I mean, just look at this…" He a finger and began to trace it crudely along a discarded bookshelf. Listing his now blemished digit up once again he ushered it in front of Madara, who sat, unimpressed by Pein's pitiable cover-up.

Enlightening the fact that his once pale digit was now caked in a thick layer of grey dust, Pein croaked: "See! Whoever does the cleaning down here needs a firm seeing too!"

Madara's poker-faced expression began to unfold into a wily smirk, his eyebrows creased into a rigid line across his forehead as he peered out from underneath them. "Well that would be me then." He crooned smugly.

"Uhh…" In a dream, Pein's jaw dropped, hit the floor and bounced back up to rearrange itself above his cranium. He found himself only digging a deeper grave and very soon he'd be the one lying in it.

"So I need 'a firm seeing to' eh? Well you better go ahead and do so Guinea-Pig-Leader."

Pein murmured a faint 'Yes sir' sheepishly, and then clenched his fists tightly until his knuckles grew pallid white.

It had been this way since he had started working for the Akatsuki, every evening Madara would call on him and insist on some perverted foreplay. Pein knew he had no choice but to oblige, if he refused Madara wouldn't allow him to pose as Leader and the position would go to someone like Itachi. Sometimes Pein contemplated letting Itachi take his job, at least he wouldn't have to keep up this agreement to stay leader. _Let someone else take his wrath._ He would comment. Although not fancying Itachi's visions on running an organisation merely on blank stares and snoozing after meals, Pein kept his side of the bargain with Madara, well aware he as probably making the biggest of his life.

Getting up close and personal with a large clump of aging fluff –which Pein decided must have been a tennis ball at some point in its life- he scrabbled around on all fours, trousers round his ankles and shirt somewhere on his far left, draped over a wayward lampshade that teetered tentatively on a moth-eaten sofa. The sofa's once bright and vivid shades were now dull and colourless.

Holding his left arm aloof from the concrete floor and cocking his head back so that the rear of his scalp touched the verge oh his shoulder. Pein imperceptibly licked the front of his top teeth and voiced in a low and subdued tone: "I am a faithful sex-hound at my masters dispense, what we shall play tonight Sir? Woof, woof."

"Hmm…" Madara growled, rubbing at his chin with his forefinger and thumb for what must have been all of two heartbeats before seductively slipping his forefinger through a small parting in his cherry-crimson lips and gazing longingly at Pein's unclothed torso.

Pein let his mouth hang ajar for the second time that musky twilight. His ears burned a fiery scarlet and even through his thick locks of deep, luscious auburn hair they stood out like a pigeon among a flock of snow white doves.

"Well you know that song 'Pain', Pein? No? It goes:

_Pain, without love_

_Pain, I can't get enough_

_Pain, I like it rough_

'_Coz I'd rather feel 'Pein' than nothing at all." _On the last quotation Madara's glistening orbs seemed tom flare with sudden enthusiasm. He clutched his broad hands around the rim of the unyielding oak table and beamed widely at Pein, a glint of sheer frozen iciness in his distorted pervert optics.

"Feel…Pein?" Echoed the sex-hound, hazarding a rough guess where this was headed.

"That's it, now come on over here." Madara patted the table gently, directing Pein to sit. A cloud of unruly dust glided up into the stale air, dancing like petite crystallized ballet dancers in the ashen streak of light deriving from a singular bulb amongst the rafters.

Pein exhaled softly, kicking his breeches from his ankles and resting his supple thighs upon the oak table. He winced in shock at the brief frostiness that travelled throughout his whole body and sent shivers up his spine.

Without warning, Madara abruptly snatched Pein from his seated posture plunking him on his lap like a child.

"Bark lap-dog, bark!" Ordered Madara gruffly, running a rigid finger repeatedly over Pein's sensitive spots. In return Pein yapped vigorously like a puppy suckling its mother's teat; so feeble and puny.

"What's the matter? Had enough already?"

No answer.

"Maybe this will loosen your tongue." And with that Madara took the tip of Pein's chin in the cup of his hand and turned Pein's face towards his own. Planting a hot pair of candied lips on the pair before him, Madara grasped Pein's elbows in a firm embrace and held him close. He nibbled delicately at Pein's quivering lower lip; a tremor that shivered through his own spine like poison from a dart shivers its victim.

Slipping his cautious tongue into the crack of Pein's parted maw, Madara let it explore inquisitively on it's own for a while before a rapid encounter with a second occupant. The two greeted each other by entwining their saliva coated bodies, slithering around one another impulsively. Both remained in unbreakable solitude for no less or more than twenty full heartbeats before as swiftly as they had become acquainted, they were once again merely strangers.

There was silence. Tension was building up in Pein's bloodstream; he could not control his hush much longer. Within seconds he erupted into a query so prompt there was not one word of sense in it.

"How'dIdo?" Madara blinked.

"Beg ya' pardon?"

"How did I do?" Pein had now grasped the basic concept of speech well enough to throw together a question he thought he would get an answer to.

Madara tapped the side of his nose emitting a low humming sound, clearly mulling something over in his mind; you could almost hear the cogs in his brain whirring intensely.

Inhaling the atmosphere bit by bit, Madara shot sudden inquisitive glare at Pein, raising an eyebrow in an interrogating manner. "How well do you think you did, boy?"

"Maybe an 'eight'?" Pein's eyelid twitched as Madara let out an almightily roar of amusement to his statement.

"An 'eight'?! You serious? That was more like a 'six'! I thought you were good at maths?" he joked.

A tad bewildered, Pein enquired for why Madara had given him such a lowly factor.

"For why? I'll tell you for why." Madara leant forward in his creaking old chair, -alive with wood-worm one would imagine- and he cooed brashly: "It was pa-the-tic." He mouthed each syllable widely to make absolutely sure his message got across. Pein exploded.

"Wha-?! But, but…I did everything the same as yesterday!" He pelted the table in front of him so vigorously his scalp jumped.

"Exactly! I need variety Pein! Not a written ritual! Your Shag-Factor remains at a 'six' for today, now beetle of!" Madara frowned, searching for his forehead with his broad palms before waving Pein the back of his hand and screwing up his gleaming crimson orbs.

A little besides himself, Pein stamped his foot in aggravation. Madara glanced at him callously from under his curtain of hand.

"I won't fail! I won't I wont let you give the organisation to Itachi-I-Want-To-Sit-And-Stare-At-Walls-All-Day Uchiha!" Pein snorted in relentless disgust.

Madara scowled, rolling his eyes far beyond his eyelids and groaning gravely. "I don't care, now get out of here!"

"No."

"I said scram!"

"Shan't!"

Rising smartly to his feet and shunting the chair as far back as the cabinet behind would allow, Madara darted his outstretched finger in Pein's line of vision, his face distorted by a fixed contorted grimace.

"Very well, but on your head be it!" And with that the basement door screeched ajar and a lip-biting figure slid into the stream of light, his face painted with humiliation.

"Zetsu?!" Shrieked Pein in astonishment, he couldn't believe his eyes, there was his comrade standing by the door dressed in none other than…well, none other really. Apart from a pair of precipitously placed pink rabbits ears worn on his scalp, he was stark naked!

"Ahh…Leader-Sama!" yelped the apprehensive nude, whose instinct rapidly told him to hide his manhood. He clasped both hands over his lower parts and arranged his elbows so as he was covering below, his arms were able to shadow his nipples from view.

Madara's cheeks were now set a solid rosy shade; he waved his hands about manically signalling Zetsu to come forward. "Just think" he tittered "we can have a threesome now, ey Pein?" He grinned from ear to ear, eyes screwed at the edges as if he was half-heartedly attempting to squint a better view.

"Madara! Are you sexually harassing _every_ member of the Akatsuki?!" Madara chuckled.

"No, don't be silly Pein."

"Well good!" Pein edged a little to the left, he wondered why that thought bothered him so. It wasn't as if he gave a shit about Madara or anything, was it?

"All except Konan."

"Huh?!" Pein blinked, flabbergasted.

"I must say it hasn't quite been the same since Orochimaru left…" Madara rested his chin on his shoulder, staring at no one in particular. He flicked back his lengthy coal-black locks of hair like a love struck school girl and exhaled dreamily. "…he knew how to use his _lovely_ long tongue of his."

Pein shuddered, covering his insipid silver orbs with his palms as if he could see the scene clear as day right there, right now. "Oh, oh! Too much, _way _too much! Madara I really must protest, you can't just go around sexually hara—hold on, what do you mean 'all except Konan'?" Pein enquired, peering out from behind his hand-wall-fortress.

Madara shrugged indifferently. "Well she's a girl isn't she?"

"Very perspective of you." Pein mused, still much perplexed.

"Well it wouldn't be right, would it?"

"Oh no, I see it now…" Pein nodded, declaring sarcastically: "…a girl and a guy…like…_eww!"_


End file.
